Page 74 of Wreckage

Just this.

I reached for his shirt before I could stop myself, my fingers slipping beneath the fabric, pressing against the hard planes of his stomach.

Adrian shuddered, his breath hitching against my mouth.

Then, swiftly, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside.

I exhaled softly, my hands exploring the muscles beneath my fingertips. His skin was so warm and alive against mine.

He looked perfect. He was so strong, like someone who could carry the weight of my world and never falter beneath it.

His gaze burned into mine as I hesitated, my hands hovering at the hem of my shirt.

He didn’t rush me. Didn’t push. He watched and waited.

When I finally tugged it off, his sharp inhale of breath sent a thrill through me.

“You’re… incredible,” he murmured, his fingers trailing along my arms, over my shoulders, leaving a path of fire in their wake. “So fucking beautiful, butterfly.”

He was being careful. I knew he didn’t want to rush me. I didn’t want to rush either, but I also didn’t want to stop.

Ineededthis.

Needed the distraction.

Neededhim.

The next moments passed in a blur of soft gasps and exploring hands, of whispered touches and teasing kisses, of learning one another, memorizing every reaction.

Adrian took his time, worshipping me, his lips trailing down my body, discovering what I liked, what made my breath hitch, what made my fingers dig into his back.

When I shuddered beneath his touch, he whispered sweet reassurances against my skin, his voice low, deep, soothing.

He made me feel everything.

Gently, he pushed my bra strap down my shoulder and ghosted his lips over where it had been. My breath came out shaky as he pepperedkisses lower until I was shifting for him, allowing him to unhook the clasps and free my breasts.

The moment he did, he tossed my bra aside and worshipped my breasts, his lips sucking and kissing against them. I let my head fall back as his tongue lavished a hardened nipple before sucking it into his mouth.

“Touch me, butterfly,” he husked out. “Fuck, baby. Please touch me.”

His words had my hands moving over his bare chest and down to his pants. I fumbled with the buttons on his jeans, my hands shaking.

“Slow,” he murmured against my lips. “Take your time. It’s OK.”

I did as he instructed, slowing my movements so I could focus. I had his pants unzipped in moments, and he shimmied out of them before helping me out of mine.

The entire situation seemed insane to me. I kept pushing the thought out of my head that this would have never happened had we not crashed. Right now, I’d be on campus, sitting alone while I watched him across the courtyard, talking to some random girl and putting her number into his phone. Smiling at what the night would bring him.

“Stop overthinking,” he said, returning me to the moment. “It’s just me and you. It’s us.”

I breathed out, ashamed I was letting my mind stray.

Gently, he took my hand and pressed it against the very hard, prominent bulge in his boxers. I swallowed thickly. The fact I’d done this to him made butterflies dance in my stomach.

I was too nervous to do much more than touch him over his boxers. He sensed that because he let out a soft chuckle.

“Are you scared?” he murmured, kissing along my jaw. “To touch me?”

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